


Zutara Week 2019 (yay!)

by youareoldfatherwilliam



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Gen, One Shot Collection, Zutara Week 2019, different AUs and settings, minor crack, not a ton of plot tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareoldfatherwilliam/pseuds/youareoldfatherwilliam
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots for Zutara Week 2019.





	1. Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> It's my very first time participating in ZW, and I'm so excited! Hopefully, I'll be able to complete all the prompts; if not, then the chapter count will change. I set the rating as teen; if I go over/under that, then the individual chapter summary will specify that.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is pure fluff, and takes place in a canon-divergent universe where Zutara was endgame after the war. Wedding shenanigans abound!

Katara isn’t a very extravagant person.

Zuko knows this. It’s been obvious for as long as he’s known her; the waterbending peasant/princess who’s challenged him every step of his journey from spoiled, selfish princeling to Firelord. She’s frugal, knowing the best ways to save money, to maximize benefit, and she’s never been one much for fancy, ornate objects.

It’s for this reason that he’s found himself down in the royal vault in the dead of night, banging his head against his great-great-great grandmother’s bejeweled headpiece.

He’s getting married to her in three days, and he still hasn’t decided on an appropriate wedding gift.

He’s been agonizing over this for months; before he even got up the courage to propose, and none of his ideas seem to work. In a last-ditch effort, he’s made his way down to the vault where all his family’s heirlooms and treasures are kept, hoping to look for something that screams _Katara_.

(He’d tried to drag Sokka with him, but the traitor had just laughed and smacked him on the head).

He sifts his fingers through the piles of glittering jewels, before giving up and throwing himself on the ground in defeat.

Objectively, he knows that even if his gift is horrible, Katara will still love him; she’ll still want to marry him. It’s taken years, but she’s finally managed to beat it into him that she wants to be with him; and he’s more grateful to her than words can express, that she could ever have even fallen in love with him.

But that’s why this gift must be perfect; why he groans, and breathes out a plume of fire.

Being down here obviously isn’t going to help, so he gets to his feet, thinking that maybe a cup of tea will help calm his nerves and soothe him enough to think. (It’s taken years for this as well, but Uncle has finally managed to convert him to the hot leaf juice; he finds himself drinking it far more often than he’d care to admit).

On his way out though, he accidentally bumps a pile of stacked gold; something on the top shivers, before crashing down on top of his head.

He spits out a curse, before bending to pick it up. It’s a medallion; pure gold, with the shape of a cherry-blossom tree imprinted on it. Underneath the tree sits a ring of sparkling sapphires; inlaid to look as though the tree is floating on water. The medallion is hanging from a silver chain, and the silver runs around the edges, creating a halo effect.

He runs a hand over the design; it’s quite beautiful, even if he has no idea where it could possibly have come from. It looks old, likely even dating back to the beginning of his dynasty, and it’s obviously expensive. The design isn’t quite Fire Nation; it looks as though it’s probably Earth Kingdom, belonging to a noble or even a ruler.

He’s about to put it back when the angle shifts and the sapphires catch his eyes, illuminating the tree, and he gets an idea.

_______________________________

It’s probably a good thing that the bride and groom aren’t supposed to see each other for a whole week before the wedding, because otherwise he doesn’t think he could have hidden his plans from Katara. His fiancé is at her home in the Southern Water Tribe, spending her final days as an unwed woman with her own people, before she will arrive on the day of their marriage. (Later, they’ll go back to the Water Tribe for a Water Tribe wedding, but for now, she is there and he is here).

So, for three solid days, he plans, he designs, and he works.

Sokka is with him; choosing to stay with the groom so that he can, in his words, throw “the wildest bachelor party the Four Nations have ever seen!” Aang is here as well, and he ropes them into helping him; picks Sokka’s brain for the best ideas, uses Aang to help him build it and put it all together.

It’s hard work; some of the most taxing physical labor he’s had to do in a while; but fortunately, he hasn’t let his position as Firelord let him go soft; if anything, he’s bulked up from when he was a teenager, gotten stronger and more powerful, so it’s not as hard as it could have been.

On the third night, he’s almost finished with the final touches, before Sokka throws a bag over his head and drags him away for his last night as a bachelor.

_______________________________

The morning of his wedding, he wakes with more nerves than he’s ever felt before.

Everything passes him by in a daze; he’s dressed, forced to eat something by Uncle, and he barely has the time to complete his gift before the gongs ring out across Caldera, and Katara has arrived.

She’s stunning, and for the next few hours all he can focus are crystal, sea-blue eyes.

_______________________________

It’s evening and finally, _finally_ , they are alone; the only thing left before he retires to the bedchambers with his new wife (and he’s never going to get tired of saying that word) is the presentation of the gifts.

He can feel his nerves returning in full force, but before he can second-guess himself, Katara takes it upon herself to go first. She makes him close his eyes and tells him to wait in the castle courtyard; he does so impatiently, under the light of the full moon.

In a few minutes, he feels something warm being placed on top of his shoulders; it’s thick, and heavy, and he’s suddenly very grateful that he took off his ornate ceremonial wedding robes during the celebration parties earlier, so that he’s only in the lighter under-layers. When he opens his eyes, draped around him is a traditional Water Tribe cloak; like what a chief would wear. It is a deep navy blue, outlined with white fur and embroidered with silver thread patterns in the shape of suns, stars, and crescent moons.

His wife smiles at him. “You are the son-in-law of the chief, now; so even though you don’t have any real power in the Water Tribe, I wanted you to have something that fits your status. It’s-”

He doesn’t let her finish, drawing her into a deep kiss; for a few minutes they stay there, until eventually he feels himself getting breathless and he needs to draw back, gasping. “Agni, I love you”.

She grins. “I know. My turn!”

_______________________________

He cups his hands over her eyes, and leads her through the palace; they can still hear the wedding festivities carrying on throughout the city, and dimly he can hear fireworks in the distance; but the noise is not enough to cancel out the sound of his beating heart.

When they arrive, he kisses her temple, before uncovering her eyes.

They are at the entrance to a garden; but this isn’t like his mother’s garden, or any of the other orchards and grounds that can be found within the palace walls. Water surrounds them on almost all sides. It’s almost a perfect circle; close to the stone-walled edges are several small waterfalls, spilling into pools filled with aquatic life. It’s mostly plants; there are water-lilies, grasses, and lotus plants, but animals too; turtle-ducks and koi fish inhabit the pools. The pools are separated by slim rock paths; barely wide enough to fit one person. They’re connected, though; water flows between them all. It’s night-time, so the entire place is lit with glow-flies; tiny twinkling lights that spark intermittently under the moonlight.

The crowning jewel, however, is the centerpiece; a silver swing sits on a mini, grassy island in the center of all the pools, connected by rock-stepping stones. It’s inlaid with blue silken cushions; big enough to lie down on, wide enough to fit at least two people. The metal frame is engraved with Water Tribe symbols; and at the top sits a small crescent moon.

In his arms, Katara seems frozen, so he starts to ramble. “It’s a water garden. For you. I mean, I know that you have the bending arena for waterbending, and it’s humid, and an island, so there’s the sea, but I just- I mean, I figured it wouldn’t be the same as the South Pole, where you’re constantly surrounded by water? This isn’t the same thing, I know, but Sokka told me it was impossible to keep snow frozen here year-round, and I wanted you to have a place where you could retreat, and-”

“It’s beautiful”. Her eyes look a little damp as she turns to face him, but she’s grinning, so instinctively he relaxes, inching closer to her face, pressing his forehead against hers. “Sokka told me I was going to love it”.

He pouts a little, at that. “He ruined it for me? I’m going to kick his ass so hard-”

“He didn’t tell me what it was”. She smirks, taking her hand in his, before drawing him along until they get to the swing. “He did, however, tell me that you used him and Aang as slave labor to help you make it, so that meant I’d better love it”.

He sits down; draws her into his arms as they recline on the cushions. “It wasn’t slave labor! I just needed Aang to help me set the rocks and source the water, and Sokka helped me design it”.

She lays her head against his chest. “Whatever you say, Firelord”. She reaches up to kiss the scowl off his face, and they lose themselves for a time; caught in the desperate sharing of breath between them, the need to be closer, connected. Eventually, though, the swing gives a groan of protest; flustered, he pushes his head against the cushions, while his wife laughs, beginning to straighten her robes. “Take me to bed, Zuko”.

He picks her up before she can protest; carries her out of her garden before she smacks him on the chest, forcing him to set her down. She takes his hand, and pulls him into their palace and down the halls toward their bedroom; he follows willingly, happily.

After all; the most important gift is themselves to each other; and he’s eager to spend the rest of his life giving her all he has, and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this, I played with the idea that it's Fire Nation tradition for the bride and groom to exchange wedding gifts with each other on the night of their wedding. Hope you liked it!


	2. Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has been done before, but here's a short Sun-and-Moon God AU. Slightly bittersweet; but still fluffy.

They rarely get the chance to speak to each other. 

She’s beautiful. Every inch of her glows, with a pale luminescence that serves to highlight her features. Mortals have described Zuko as radiant; but he thinks that for all his brightness, he will never be able to come close to Katara’s light. 

He’s been the Sun God for thousands of years; she has been the Moon for as long as he can remember. Every day, he sees her for a few brief moments; when he rises in the east as she fades away, and when he sets upon the world below as she moves to take her place in the heavens. 

The only times they can talk are when the stars align perfectly; when she eclipses him, and the skies darken until there is the barest ring of fire left, a part of him joined with her. 

He cherishes these times. When he was a young god, and it first occurred, he’d hated it; hated her, been angry that she could dare to take his place when it wasn’t her time. He’d screamed at her, raged; she’d yelled right back; he may be the fiery one, but her spark shines just as bright as his own. But aeons have passed since then; he’s grown older and wiser; learned to appreciate and respect her. 

He knows he’s in love with her. He’s not sure how long he’s known; time is irrelevant when generations tend to pass him in the blink of an eye. 

Of course, despite his irreverence for Father Time, he still counts the days until he can properly see her again. It’s always a few years apart; a few years of nothing but longing glances across the skies. Sometimes, she’ll try to stay in the sky longer than her time, hanging as a pale figure in the blush of dawn, or sometimes he will dawdle, trying to prolong his setting so that he can see her for a while longer. 

Whenever this happens, she always smiles a little brighter; he can feel her merriment even as he sinks below the horizon-line. 

Regardless, he still lives for those times when their paths align; when he watches her creep slowly closer to him. He’s learned to reach out and take her hand, drawing her into himself even as the skies darken around them. He always lets her speak first; and they spend hours like that, talking as she grows closer, before the moment comes when she’s finally eclipsing him perfectly, and they are one being in the sky. 

There are no more words then; only two halves of a whole finally come together. 

Eventually, of course, the moment passes and she must leave again; they begin to separate, and he must watch her move away. He clasps her hand for as long as he can, savoring the final hours that he can have her, that he can hold her, before he must let her go, and she leaves until the next time they can meet. 

He knows, that they’ll never be able to have each other as more than this. They may be gods, but their will is not all-powerful; they are bound to their posts; he can never be less than what he is, just as she will never be able to change her nature. 

But that does not stop him from loving her; it cannot stop him from wanting her, from cherishing the times that she is his and he is hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little vague with respect to the prompt, but I hope you liked it anyways. Also, I completely ignored the existence of the new moon in the lunar cycle, because I couldn't figure out how to fit that in with Zuko's pining. Sorry! It's still there, I just couldn't make it work, and I wanted this to be short.


	3. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is slightly more angsty than the previous ones, and it's also very introspective. Really, it's just +1k words of Katara, musing, so the Zutara is a bit more vague. It takes place directly after the Southern Raiders, immediately after leaving Yon Rah (which I know has been done a million times before but here you go anyways!).

She doesn’t want to think about it, but she can’t help it.

The rain is falling around them, coming down harder and harder, in response to the turmoil that Katara feels inside of her. Nothing is making sense anymore; it’s been a day since they left the island, a day of flying around on Appa before the rain became too much. Zuko had spotted another uninhabited island, and landed them there. It’s tiny; but there is fresh water falling around them, and a few small fruit trees, so they will survive the storm.

Luckily for them, the island has a small cave; Zuko had all but dragged her to it, and she vaguely remembers him starting a fire. Appa, unfortunately, has been left out in the rain, but the bison has managed to sequester himself under a copse of trees, so at least he is semi-dry.

Even so, none of it is enough to distract her from the turmoil in her heart.

It feels as though she’s spent the past twenty-four hours crying. Leaving Yon Rah behind, alive, was one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do. She doesn’t regret it, but the time between then and now has left her feeling hollowed out, emptied.

She doesn’t think she can cry anymore; but the hollowness is strangely comforting. She knows that her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to kill that ~~man~~ monster, so she doesn’t regret not killing him. She won’t forgive him though, can’t, no matter how many times wide grey eyes might plead the opposite. And now, she finally feels that she can begin to move forward; that ball of hatred that’s been simmering where her heart has been for years is finally beginning to shrink.

But, with the lessening of her anger, she also finds herself forced to confront one of its main targets. Zuko hasn’t said a word since he pushed her in here; since he let her cry into his shoulder as they flew away on Appa, afterwards; since he stood back and let her make a _choice_ , while a miserable coward sniveled at her feet. He’s sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire from her, hands on his knees while twin flames gently flicker above his opened palms. He’s meditating, she realizes, and a part of her envies him for the seeming calm he has found amid all her turmoil.

All her life, the Fire Nation have been monsters. It’s been impossible for them to be anything else; ever since she was little, even before her mother was murdered, there had been stories. She was too small to remember them, but everything was brought into sharp clarity the day she saw the monsters for herself; the day she ran, and came back to find her mother’s charred corpse lying atop the furs in their home.

She hadn’t stopped screaming for two days after, till she’d lost her voice amidst all the hiccupping, sobbing; and her father hadn’t been able to look her in the eyes for a month later, too caught up in his own grief.

But after that, she hadn’t seen another Fire Nation person for years; had been sheltered on the frozen wastelands of her home. Until, of course, the day that a small (but oh, it had seemed _enormous_ ) metal ship had crashed into her village, and golden eyes drowning in their own hatred had met hers, however briefly.

She thinks, perhaps, that was when the cold ball of hatred in her chest had shrieked, grown ten times larger, and begun to creep into the edges of her vision. After all, it isn’t as though she hadn’t had a good reason; his face was the first Fire Nation person’s she’d seen after her mother was killed.

He’d then proceeded to spend the better part of half a year chasing her and her family across the world; so, her dislike was fully justified.

But then, in the caverns, she’d thought she’d seen good in him. Some part of him, that could speak to her own; the hatred grew a little quieter, then. She’d offered him a hand.

And he’d thrown it back in her face.

There had been fear, and panic, and terror, but he’d been gone after that. Then months later, he’d shown up again, and the hatred had _roared_ , gone from a cold, dead thing in her chest to a hollow, dark cavity that threatened to swallow her whole. It didn’t matter that he’d shown up on his knees, pleading for change. She’d heard those words before, and now all she could see was Aang’s lifeless body, her mother’s broken body, blood, as red as the robes he wore.

The good she’d thought she’d seen in him didn’t matter, couldn’t matter; not when all she could see was red.

But now, as she sits across from him in a cold cave, illuminated with flames, the red has finally, finally receded. She still can’t think properly, doesn’t understand him; but she thinks, this is the clearest she’s ever seen him. Here, in the light of his own flames, he is softer than the images her memory has conjured of him. His harsher edges are no longer there, leaving behind someone new in front of her.

The realization that he has, in fact, changed, finally seems to hit her, recalling words shouted at her from across glowing green caves, what seems like so long ago. Ba Sing Se is still an open, festering wound on her heart, but now that she’s looking at him, she’s beginning to think that maybe, what had happened there wasn’t even about her, not really. There is still so much that she doesn’t understand about him, can’t understand.

Because sitting here, she realizes that she doesn’t know him, at all. The rest of her family, her friends have certainly got a better handle on him than her. While she’s spent the last few months trying to wound him with as many poisonous barbs as possible, the others have given him a chance.

She’s been harsh and cruel, so much so that she barely even recognizes herself, and she pushes down the feeling of discomfort in her chest at some of the things she’s said to him.

Zuko is too many things, she thinks, and that’s the problem. Her first image of him is anger; cold black armor and shouted words, and flaming, furious fists aiming at the people she loves. But she can’t see that anymore; her image of him is completely shattered.

Among the broken shards, she can only see fragments of a picture. A green-clothed boy, serving tea. A harsh voice yelling at her in the North Pole, before flames swallow up her vision. Golden eyes watching her hesitantly as she dares to reach up, to place her hands on the reddened flesh surrounding the left one. A soaking, shaggy-haired prince on his knees, begging for a second chance. A cool, determined voice barking instructions at Aang, while its owner walks the Avatar through the motions of firebending.

Despite the confusion, she thinks that one thing is true. Whoever he is, whoever he may have been, he’s here now, sitting with her in a cave when no one else is. He’s been here this whole time, helping her to find her mother’s killer, giving her the chance to make her own peace with the horrible past that has shaped so much of her life up to this point. He’s been here even before that; from the first time that he tried to help her cook dinner and she shoved him away. Or maybe it was from when he showed up on his knees, offering to teach Aang firebending, when no one else would.

Regardless, he’s here. She thinks, that perhaps it is time to rebuild the shattered pieces of his picture in her mind. She thinks that maybe she’s ready to try and see who he really is, try to piece together the fragments into a whole.

She thinks, that even though she isn’t ready to voice these thoughts yet, maybe she’s ready to start forgiving him; to look past whoever he’s been in the past and focus on the him who’s here, now.

Outside the rain keeps falling; but inside, next to a quietly meditating boy with flames in his hands and piercing golden eyes, the storm in her heart finally begins to settle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have time to get the day four prompt out tomorrow. We'll see, so fingers crossed!


	4. Mentor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I went really off-base with this prompt. It became less about mentoring, and more about them just... learning? From and about each other, kind of? To be honest, I'm not completely happy with how this one turned out, but I also didn't want to skip a prompt if I could help it, so yup, here we are. This takes place in an AU where Zuko and Katara meet as children, after the war is already over. I'll explain more about this AU in the end notes, for anyone who's actually interested in reading it.
> 
> Also, side note, this AU was partially inspired by two other AU's: AvocadoLove's Another Brother, and Kitsune1818's Red in the Snow! Both are super cool, and you should definitely go read those instead of reading this one, lol.

When they first bring home the boy, he is filthy.

The only shocking thing about this, of course, is that they find him on an iceberg; so, the fact that he is covered in dirt is rather strange. Upon closer inspection though, it’s not dirt; it’s coal dust.

Everyone backs away a bit upon learning this; they all know where coal dust comes from.

He is shivering, but not as much as he should be, and the reason becomes obvious when he breathes out a tiny plume of flame. A bender.

They haven’t been at war with the Fire Nation in years, not since her father was born; but Katara knows that the peace is fragile. There are murmurs from the delegations, however. Stories of the new Firelord, and how he took the throne from his grieving elder brother after the loss of his son, the elder brother who now resides on one of the Fire Nation’s outer islands. People are hesitant to call it banishment, but still, there are whispers.

Peace or not, the world at large does not trust the Fire Nation; can’t, not with such recent memories of attacking soldiers, and bloody battles.

That doesn’t matter right now, though. The boy stands in her village square, but he is barely on his feet. He’s watching them with wary golden eyes; the same way that they are watching him. He barely looks older than her; if she had to guess, she would say he’s her brother’s age, so thirteen, maybe fourteen at most. His clothes are not equipped for the cold of the South Pole at all; the barest hint of thin red robes can be seen peeking out from underneath all the black dust. He’s huddled in on himself, alternating between breathing fire and glaring at them all defiantly.

The most startling thing about him, however, is the wound. It’s a fresh burn, surrounding his left eye so that he can only keep it open for short periods of time. It looks incredibly painful, and his tangled black hair is hanging in front of it, which probably isn’t helping.

The warriors who found him, who are surrounding him, still have their spears pointed at him, even though he would barely be a threat right now. Still, the weapons do not waver, even as her parents approach the center of the crowd; she can see Sokka tagging along behind them from where she stands close to the front, and he is clearly excited.

Her father clears his throat. “Who are you, firebender?”

“My name is Zuko”. The voice is thin, raspy, and sounds as though he may be sick, though that would hardly be surprising. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already”.

She can see her mother hiding a smile, even as her father’s eyebrows raise. “We’re not going to kill you. We just want to know why you’re here”.

The boy- Zuko –hunches in further on himself and refuses to open his mouth again, though he’s stopped glaring as much; it looks as though he’s abandoned his defiance in favor of keeping his eyes shut, probably to avoid aggravating the burn. She can see her father opening his mouth again, probably to ask again, but the boy suddenly stops shivering.

In the next instant, he drops to the ground in a dead faint.

_______________________________________

Zuko doesn’t talk much.

When he wakes from a week-long fever, he tells them, hesitantly; that he is thirteen years old, and banished. That he can never go back to the Fire Nation. He refuses to say why, and he refuses to speak of his family. Instead, he stays huddled in a corner of the healer’s hut, with fresh bandages over his eye (the healers managed to reduce the infection and save the eye, but it will leave a rather nasty scar). He watches them all, and only speaks again to mutter quiet words of thanks when he is brought food, or tended to by the healers.

After three days of this, her father declares that he will be coming to live with her family now.

(Zuko looks strange, though, in the blue furs that her father has given him. It’s the eyes, she thinks; the gold is shocking against the whiteness of her homeland, even though one is now marred by a red scar).

_______________________________________

It quickly becomes clear that Zuko is unused to working; at least, in the domestic way. It doesn’t stop him from trying, however. Regardless of how much he seems to still barely trust them, he throws himself into every task they give him; refusing to give up even when he clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

Eventually, she takes pity on him. He is struggling to properly stack firewood in the hearth; while starting fires may be a part of him, he does not know how to build one. She goes to sit next to him, and carefully shows him the motions; how not to choke the flames, how to lessen the amount of smoke.

He watches her silently, before muttering a quiet thank you; after that, she notes, he never stacks the logs improperly again.

_______________________________________

In the evenings, after her chores are done, Katara goes to learn waterbending. The only other bender in their village is her mother; back when there had been wars with the Fire Nation, most of their tribe’s benders had been wiped out. Still, they work together to preserve their tribes’ traditions.

Zuko watches them, some days, after his own chores are done. He never tries to join them, but he sits at the edge of the snow-covered training field and holds tiny flames in his palms; it takes her a while to realize that he is meditating. Eventually, her mother reaches out to him, drags him up, and sets him opposite Katara. “How much do you know of bending?”

He stutters a little, before watching the ground. “Some. I started learning when I was seven. I’m not very good, though”.

Kya just laughs a little. “Then, you can spar with Katara, and the two of you can learn from each other”.

After that, he joins all their waterbending lessons. As time goes on, she finds he doesn’t mind his intrusion; he is strangely good company, and listens carefully to her afterwards as she talks to him in the last rays of sunlight. 

_______________________________________

A few months after Zuko’s arrival, Sokka, who has mostly ignored the firebender up to this point, begins to complain that it isn’t fair Katara can fight against him, while he has no one his own age to spar with. (In a rather unlucky turn of fate, all the other village boys are several years younger, or older, than her brother; a fact that he bemoans almost daily).

Her brother demands that Zuko be allowed to learn how to fight like a warrior, if only so that he can have someone to show off his blooming skills against. Her father agrees, and takes the boys to the weapons hall, urging Zuko to pick something that he would like to learn. Katara tags along behind them; at two years’ younger than them she won’t be allowed to learn a weapon, but she is still eager to watch.

Zuko browses the shelves almost hesitantly; he has grown more comfortable with them as of late, but there are still walls up behind his eyes, that no one has quite been able to crack. Eventually, he stops in a darkened corner, where there are old weapons; remnants of a war that has since been won.

When he turns back to face them, he is holding a slim sheath; when he draws the weapon, he reveals a pair of swords. They are dusty, and a little rusted on the ends, but it is nothing that a bit of polishing cannot fix. Her father frowns. “Are you sure? There is no one here who can teach you that”.

Zuko licks his lips. “Before I was banished, my cousin had been teaching me to use the dual dao for several years, and I had a master as well. I… liked it”.

Sokka jumps in. “Let’s see how good you are then, firebender”. He drags Zuko out to the town square; it is mostly empty, though there are some curious passerby. He draws his own boomerang, and favored spear, and they take up positions against each other. Katara stays close to her father, watching.

At first, Zuko is a little clumsy; the swords are slightly too big for him, she thinks, meant for a grown man rather than a thirteen-year-old boy. But soon, he is driving her brother back, in a flurry of motion that speaks of hard-earned skill. A crowd is gathering among them; most are cheering for Sokka, though a few quiet voices encourage the firebender. Just to be cheeky, she cups her hands around her mouth and yells. “Come on, Zuko! You can do it!”

Sokka gapes, she hears her father laughing above her. Zuko too, looks shocked, but he quickly recovers, and lands a final blow against her brother that leaves him lying flat on his butt.

She laughs then, and around her, slowly, the crowd is laughing too; after three months, they are no longer quite as hostile towards Zuko as they were. She moves forward then, and grins up at the firebender. “That was amazing!” Below them, Sokka sputters, but she ignores him. “You’re a good fighter, and a good bender!”

He doesn’t quite smile, but he rubs the back of his neck, and his lips curve upward the tiniest bit. “Thanks. You’re a really good bender too”.

_______________________________________

After that, she finds herself spending more time with Zuko, outside of their shared bending lessons. He has begun to talk more, and every time she gets him to speak she feels a little thrill in her chest. He tells her a bit more about his life; he still doesn’t talk about how he came to be with them, but he tells her about his people, and his culture.

In exchange, she becomes his guide to life among the Southern Water Tribe. She shows him the places with the best views, introduces him to the best foods (he gamely eats stewed sea prunes with her, though she catches him trying to hide a wince in his sleeve).

She tells him the stories, myths and beliefs of her people, and he shares his with her. She learns more about the world from a Fire Nation boy than she ever though she could, and Zuko absorbs everything she teaches him like a shaggy-haired sponge. Eventually, a year has passed; without realizing it, suddenly Zuko has become her best friend.

One night in the summer, she takes him out to one of the icy peaks that overlooks the ocean, the best place to see the Southern Lights. He carries the furs, and she brings a small pouch of dried puffin-seal jerky. Her parents warn them to be back before midnight; the ice can get treacherous in the dark.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the flickering plethora of colors above them. It’s Zuko who first breaks the silence. “Thank you, Katara”.

She shifts to look at him. “For what?”

“For being my friend”. He stares resolutely at the sky. “I never had friends, back at home. And for taking me in. Your family, your people…they didn’t have to help me, but they did. And I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked them for it”.

She wants to push now, because in all his time with them Zuko still has never told her where he’s from. She’s gleaned enough to realize that he is some sort of nobility, at the very least. There have also been stories; rumors of a banished princeling, coming down through word of mouth, but no one has confirmed it, and Zuko refuses to speak on the subject.

She doesn’t push, though; instead she reaches out her hand. Hesitantly, shyly, he takes it. Under the thick fur glove, she can feel the heat from his hands; subconsciously she moves closer, because Zuko has always been warm, and it is comforting in the chilly night air. “You’re one of us now, Zuko. Family helps each other”.

He smiles then, a real smile, and squeezes her hand tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essentially, in this AU, Roku did his job, more or less. Well, he did his job to the point where he stopped the attack on the Air Nomads, but promptly dies soon after, as does Sozin. So Aang grows up in a world that's running high with tensions, and he gets told he's the Avatar at sixteen, like normal. Eventually, war does break out, with the Fire Nation attacking while Aang is around twenty-two-ish, so that he's not quite a fully realized Avatar yet (I'm subscribing to the whole it-takes-twelve-years-normally, deal). He spends the next four years in hiding, trying to learn fire bending. He then spends the later years after that trying his best to stop Fire Lord Azulon; he refuses to kill Azulon, but there's also no deus-ex-machina-lion-turtle this time around, so the world is somewhat at a stalemate with skirmishes everywhere and Aang trying to keep the peace. Eventually, around the time that Ozai and Hakoda are born, Aang finally forces Azulon into surrendering. Then for the next few years, there is an uneasy peace; Azulon's wife (who we haven't seen anything of but who I'm going to pretend is important, here) is given the throne in her husband's place, and she rules until Iroh is ready to take the throne. But then, Lu Ten dies tragically in a hunting accident, Iroh is grieving, and Ozai takes this opportunity to steal the throne, in pretty much the same manner as before (so that Ursa is gone, and all that). He sends Iroh to an outer Island to keep him out of the way. So essentially, at this point, the uneasy peace is threatened by the fact that no one trusts Ozai, as he's rumoured to be kind of unstable, and no one knows much about him. 
> 
> Whew, that got long. Point being, at age thirteen, Zuko is dishonoured for standing up in a council meeting and telling his father that restarting the war would be wrong and cruel, and then the Agni Kai proceeds to play out as normal. He's banished, but instead of sending him to chase the Avatar (since Aang, though much older now, is still alive and keeping an eye on things), Ozai strands him on an iceberg, hoping that his weakling son will die of frost bite and Azula will be the heir. But of course, he's found by the SWT, and then this little AU begins. 
> 
> In this, because there isn't really a war, Kya is alive and well. So, while Katara still doesn't trust the Fire Nation (no one really does), she also doesn't have the same hatred and pain that she did in canon, so it's much easier for her to accept Zuko this time around. Additionally, because Zuko is found so close to death, he doesn't have three years of festering anger and pain built up; he's a lot more open to living as a member of the Water Tribe, since he's old enough to realize that he can never go home and this is really his only chance for survival. 
> 
> By the end of this, in case it wasn't clear, Zuko is fourteen and Katara is twelve. I actually have a whole bunch of ideas to go back and explore this AU properly, in an actual story, but I'm just not sure I'll have the time.
> 
> Also, as stated in the beginning, this got really off-topic. Originally, I wanted to have Katara "mentoring" Zuko in her culture, and such; but then I started thinking about world-building, and it ended up like this? I promise I'll try and stay more on topic for tomorrow's prompt, hopefully.


	5. Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this one has absolutely zero plot. It was inspired by me hearing Taylor Swift on the radio and then remembering the music video for "You Belong with Me" (throwback, anyone?). It then devolved into this...short drabble of fluffy nothingness. Maybe tomorrow, I'll actually think of plot.

The boy doesn’t try to say anything.

She can feel his eyes on her, as she moves about her new room on tiny legs; valiantly trying to unpack all her dolls and clothes from the moving boxes. But every time she dashes to the window, to try to peek at him, the curtains in the house across from her new one snap shut.

Eventually, Katara’s patience wears out; she’s only five years old, after all, and she’s getting to be a bit curious. So, she only hesitates a little, before going to her parents’ room and peeking in. Her father is setting up her mother’s medical equipment, while Mama herself is lying on the bed, clearly tired after their ten-hour drive to Republic City.

Mama still looks at her with a smile, though. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I need paper! And pens!”

Her father turns around then, smiling as well. “Why’s that, little wolf-pup?”

She scrunches her face up, missing the commiserating look on her parents’ faces, before she shakes her head. “I can’t tell you!”

Her father chuckles. “Alright, Katara. Let’s go get you some paper”.

_________________________

She walks back to the window in her bedroom and stares out. Sure enough, the boy is there, and narrowed eyes disappear as soon as they realize she’s watching back. She huffs, and begins to write.

At five years old, her writing skills aren’t exactly exceptional; but they’re still enough to get her point across. _Who ~~arre~~ are you?_

She sticks the paper on the windowsill, makes sure it’s upright, and resumes positioning her dolls around her room. She forgets about the strange boy for a while after that, and eventually it gets darker outside. Papa calls her downstairs for dinner; he’s ordered in a pizza, and she spends five minutes fighting with Sokka for the biggest piece. Her older brother wins, and sticks his tongue out at her, mouth filled with cheese. She retaliates by picking up her glass of water, and throwing it in his face, giggling at Sokka’s aggravated sputtering.

Eventually it’s time for bed; her mother makes her way to her room, and kisses her on the forehead; but Kya is too weak for a proper bedtime story, and soon it’s lights out.

It’s then that she remembers the boy, and she throws off the covers and runs to the window, turning back on the lights as she goes.

In the windowsill across, barely illuminated by the light coming from her own room, is a piece of paper with a single word. _Zuko_.

_________________________

The next morning, she scribbles another note, that says _Backyard_. She makes herself a peanut-butter sandwich and takes a juice box from the pantry, and goes to sit outside on her back porch, watching the hedge that divides their two houses closely.

She’s not sure how much time passes, only that she’s getting hungry; so, she’s just started to eat the peanut-butter sandwich when there’s a rustling noise, and the boy appears over the low leafy layer. Messy black hair is falling into his eyes, and he’s watching her quietly with wide, golden eyes.

She huffs. “Zuko?”

He nods. “Who’re you?”

She stands, puts down her sandwich, and walks towards him. “My name is Katara, and we just moved in here. I live with my Mama, and my Papa, and my older brother Sokka, but he’s weird so he doesn’t count”.

Zuko absorbs this information as though it’s vitally important. “I live with my Father, and my little sister Azula. My mother’s gone”.

She scrunches her face. “Where’d she go?”

He moves suddenly, and there’s a pop, and then he’s standing in front of her on her side of the hedge, brushing dirt off his clothing. “I don’t know. Father said she isn’t coming back”. He looks at the ground, and she thinks he might be brushing away a tear. “I miss her”.

Katara shifts, feeling uncomfortable. She wonders if maybe she should hug him? That’s what Mother would tell her to do, anyways, but she doesn’t know this boy yet. So, she redirects. “How old are you?”

He looks up. “Seven”.

She takes a step back, suddenly wary. “I’m five, and my Papa always tells me not to talk to strange older men”.

At this, Zuko looks mortally offended. “I’m not a stranger! You know my name!”

She frowns, considering; he does have a point, and really, he’s only her brother’s age. “Alright then. You can stay and play with me, then”.

He looks startled. “Really?”

She nods. “Yes. Let’s be friends”.

It’s at this point that her father and brother come out to the back porch to see what all the fuss is about. Sokka tries to attack Zuko, but she stands her ground; it devolves into a yelling match before her father sighs, and tells all three of them to come inside for lunch.

_________________________

After this, Zuko becomes somewhat of a permanent fixture at their house.

They go to the same school, it turns out, and he’s there to show her around the school. He’s in the same grade as her brother, but he still finds the time to sit with her at lunch, and play with her at recess.

He’s there for her when her mother succumbs to the cancer wreaking havoc in her body when she’s seven, holding her while she cries into his shirt in her bedroom. He introduces her to his Uncle Iroh, who moved across the street from them when she was eight and who always offers her tea with a smile on his face. He protects her from the bullies at school who want to pull on her hair loopies when she’s ten, and he takes her to her backyard, where it all began, and helps her learn to throw her first punch.

She’s there when he comes running to her house when he’s thirteen, screaming and half delirious because there’s a horrible burn stretching all over his face from having a pot of boiling water poured on his eye. She holds his hand to the hospital and doesn’t let go till he wakes up. She’s there when he moves in with Uncle and stops speaking for a whole year afterward the injury; learns sign language with him. She’s there when his father (who has never liked her) is finally arrested for domestic abuse when he’s fifteen; when Azula is moved to a child specialist mental health facility because the other girl has always been _odd_ , but with their father gone something seems to have finally snapped.

She cries into his shirt again when he’s eighteen and going off to college with her brother; both boys have decided to move in as roommates in Caldera City, thousands of miles away from home. Two years later, he’s the one crying (though he steadily denies it) when she finally joins them, getting in on scholarship to become a biomedical student. It’s the next great adventure in their lives, after all, and they wouldn’t have it any other way except together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for this AU, I shamelessly stole the boiling water poured on Zuko’s eye (by Ozai, of course) from My Hero Academia. Zuko and Shouto are both perfect, precious boys who must be protected, and the idea fit nicely into a modern AU. Additionally, in case it wasn’t clear, Zuko stops speaking for a whole year after the injury; he learns sign language instead, and Katara learns it with him. I felt as though having him go temporarily mute after such an event is a good way to reflect his trauma in this modern AU, and it’s something that he’ll carry with him for the rest of his life, when faced with bad situations. The idea came from PitViperofDoom’s lovely fic, Yesterday Upon the Stairs. It’s from the BNHA fandom as well (I’m super excited for season four of the anime), and for those of you who know that fandom, you should go read it! Seriously, it’s excellent. 
> 
> In this, Ursa runs away when Zuko is six, because she can’t stand Ozai’s abuse anymore. She tries to take the kids with her, but Ozai catches her and throws her out of the house, and threatens to kill the children if she ever comes back. So, she leaves. Kya, on the other hand, has breast cancer, that steadily progresses into brain cancer and leukemia (which is what my own mother had, so I threw that tribute in here), so the family moves to Republic City in the hopes of getting her better health care. Unfortunately, the treatments don’t take, and Kya dies. 
> 
> Tomorrow, I'll aim for actual plot! Fingers crossed!


	6. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very fluffy, with a tiny bit more crack thrown in than the others. It's a modern magical AU, in which Katara finds a cat. Unlike the others, this one also has alternating POV, separated by the dividing underlines.

The cat is clearly miserable.

Not that Katara can blame it, of course. Not everyone enjoys water the way she does, so obviously, not everyone is going to be thrilled that the skies are currently unleashing a torrent of wetness.

She sighs, considering the cat. Black fur plastered to its skin, with little white boots on all four paws. Both eyes are closed, though she can see a redness surrounding the left one. It is huddled under a park bench in a vain attempt to stay dry, not that the bench is doing its designated job. Her heart gives a lurch as if to say, _come on woman! Do something!_

“Alright, come on”. The cat flinches as she picks it up, but barely moves otherwise, and she cuddles it close, adjusting the strap of her computer bag so that her arm won’t go numb. “You’re coming home with me, I guess”.

________________________________

Zuko isn’t sure what is happening anymore.

He was wet, and freezing; and then suddenly he was moving; not of his own volition, though.

Normally, he’d be concerned that something (someone) has touched him; but right now he's too tired to care, curling as deeply as he can into the warmth that he finds himself pressed against. He should have known better than to leave the house in this weather; Uncle is going to scold him for it, as soon as he manages to make his way back.

In his defense, he’d figured he could get to the store before the rain hit.

He does, however, have enough presence of mind to recognize that whatever is carrying him has a magical signature. It isn’t showy, but it is there; thrumming throughout the warmth, solid and steady. If he has to guess, he’d say witch or wizard; it isn’t innate magic, the way his own is, but something that has threaded itself into the being’s core.

This is probably going to cause more trouble than it's worth; but he can’t bring himself to move. The magic-user will have to set him down eventually, anyways; he’ll worry about it then.

________________________________

“Please don’t make a mess”. Katara sets her bag down on the table and flicks a hand, causing the fairy lights floating throughout the room to thrum to life. The cat in her arms gives no response, so she moves to the kitchen and sets it down in the sink. “I’m going to dry you off, now”.

She moves her finger, whispers the words; a gust of warm air surrounds the cat and ruffles its fur, carrying away all the water until it is fluffy, and very soft looking. The cat finally opens its eyes, and looks directly at her; golden, intense; and now that she's looking better, she can tell that there is a burn scar around the left one.

It is _adorable._

“Don’t cuddle the stray cat, Katara”. She shakes herself, and goes to pick it up again, figuring it will be more comfortable by the fireplace rather than in her kitchen sink. She’s barely gotten it past the basin before her hand accidentally shifts, and _oh-_

The cat yowls, and jumps out of her hands, scrambling to the floor below and retreating to look back up at her from a few feet away.

“You are…. a boy, then”.

It hisses- no, _he_ hisses, and backs up another step.

“I just brought you out of the rain! There’s no need to be so rude”. He stops hissing, and instead stares up at her, with a frankly disconcerting amount of intelligence gleaming in the golden eyes. Katara frowns, and assesses the cat closer. “Wait. Can you understand me?”

The cat backs up a step again, but this time she's ready. She waves her hand, mutters the spell, and there; the cat glows for a second, even as he moves: a soft, muted yellow light that lights up his features and makes him look ethereal.

It also tells her that this is not an ordinary cat.

“You’re a magic-user”. She steps closer to the sink, feeling for the binding potion that she always keeps underneath the cabinet. “There’s no point hiding it”.

The cat heaves what looks very much like a sigh, before the air around him seems to curl inward; with a pop, a young man stands in front of her, completely naked.

She doesn’t shriek, but it is a close thing; she waves her hands, and before either of them can speak, the man is dressed in a red toga.

Golden eyes look down at his outfit, then back up at her. “Really?”

She cocks a hip, and glares. “I- that’s not important. Who the hell are you?”

He rolls his eyes, the left of which, she notes, is also covered by a red burn scar, much like in his cat form. “First, _witch_ , I am not a magic-user. My magic is me; I was born this way. Unlike you”.

She grips her hands around the binding potion and brings it up in front of her to wave threateningly. “Alright, so you’re a shifter then. Answer the damn question”.

Another eye-roll. “My name is Zuko, and might I remind you that you were the one who picked me up?”

She huffs. “I- I thought you were a cat!”

“I was a cat!”

“I was just trying to be nice! How was I supposed to know I’d end up with a naked man in my house!”

He stops short at that, and takes a step back, running his hand through (very fluffy-looking) thick black hair. “You’re right”. Golden eyes narrow at her, assessing. “I got caught out in the rain, and I wasn’t very comfortable, and you got me out of there. So, I’m sorry for being rude, and thank you for helping me”.

She relaxes her stance a little. “You’re welcome”. She glances out the window; it’s still pouring, and she feels a little guilty sending him back out there after she’d gone through all this trouble to bring him in. “You can stay until the rain passes, if you want”.

He looks to the side, and _oh_ \- that is a beautifully chiseled jawline- _focus, Katara!_ “I would…appreciate that. Thank you”. He tugs at his toga. “Though, um, would you mind?”

“Right”. She waves her hand again; he’s dressed in a soft red Henley sweater and jeans, standing barefoot on her kitchen floor. He nods his thanks, and they stand there in awkward silence for a few more moments before he clears his throat.

“Am I going to be…intruding on anyone’s territory by staying here until the storm has passed?”

She frowns, before his meaning hits her. “Oh! No, don’t worry about that. I don’t have a familiar yet”. She twists her hands around, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Zuko is looking at her with a calm, expectant gaze, so she plows forth. “I only started learning real magic about a year ago, so I haven’t had the time to bind myself to anyone yet”.

Now he looks startled. “A year? But- your magic feels so much more powerful than that!”

She preens a little at the shocked look on his face. “I’ve worked really hard to get here”.

He nods. “I see. Well, you must be good then”.

She feels a grin stealing over her face. “I know I’m good”. A teapot appears in her hand, and she goes to rummage through her herb racks. “Would you like some tea?”

________________________________

The witch- Katara –is stunningly beautiful.

Blue eyes are twinkling at him merrily from where he sits on her couch, carefully holding a cup of jasmine tea (he can feel Uncle’s proud gaze already). Now that he’s no longer being an ass and making her mad at him, it’s taking a lot of concentrated effort not to blurt out how much he wants to run his claws- _hands_ -through her hair and see if it’s as soft as it looks.

Stupid feline instincts.

He shakes his head and refocuses on what she’s just said. “So, aside from the basics, you have an affinity for elemental water magic?”

She nods. “Yup! And the essence of life. They work well together, and I love getting to learn”.

“That’s a rare combination”. He takes a sip to hide the blush he can feel rising on his cheeks- _Agni_ , she must be strong. “I can extend my own magic essence to manipulate the fire elemental, if I concentrate enough; it’s only a little bit, though”. He stretches his hands out towards her fireplace; focuses his energy, and twists the flames into the shape of a koi fish. When he looks back up at her, she’s nodding enthusiastically.

“I’d heard some shifters could manipulate elemental magic. That’s also pretty impressive”. She sighs, shifts. “I’ve almost mastered water. After that, I guess I’ll start to look for a familiar. It’ll be hard, though; there’s not a ton of natural magical creatures who’d be willing to bind to someone as new as me, even though I have the talent for it”.

His mouth moves before he can really comprehend what he’s saying. “I could do it”.

She blinks at him, twice, mouth dropped open. “What?”

His heart is racing, and he’s still not sure what he’s saying, but he can’t seem to stop. “I mean, I only just met you an hour ago, but I think you’re powerful, and you helped me, and I kind of what to get to know you better, and Agni, I need to stop talking”. He almost downs half the cup, ignoring the way it scalds his throat, before he dares to look up at her again.

Katara’s still staring at him. “Zuko. Slow down. What are you saying?”

He shifts. “I- I’m saying that I want to get to know you better. And, if you’re going to be looking for a familiar soon, I’d like to volunteer for the position”.

“Why?”

He shrugs, feeling strangely more settled. “You’re a powerful witch. I’ve never been bound to anyone before, but my Uncle keeps pushing to me that I should”. (The look he imagines on the old man’s face is getting smugger by the second). “And- I really would like to get to know you, better”.

She smiles. “You said that twice”. He can feel a blush rising again, but she’s grinning, and he can feel his heart beginning to pick up pace in response. “I think I’d like to get to know you better too”.

It’s not quite a promise, not yet. But even though the rain’s still falling outside, cold and grey; inside, Zuko feels warmer than he has in a long time, and he smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final prompt tomorrow!


	7. Easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last day, so I'm going to try to finish off strong! This takes place in a canon-divergent AU where the Kataang and Maiko after the war never happened.

She ignores the whispers when she first goes to live in the Fire Nation.

It isn’t easy. They’re everywhere, permeating the air no matter where she goes, paired with curious looks and conversations that always seem to fall silent when she enters a room. But at seventeen years old, Katara has learned how to better let their voices slide off her, like oil over water, so she ignores the whispers and carries on.

After all, she came to the Fire Nation to be an ambassador, to help these people; she’s not going to let a few hushed murmurings stop her.

________________________________

During her first council meeting, everything almost goes to shit.

Zuko’s council is made up of mostly men, with two women. All of them are at least three times her age; all of them look at her as though she’s something to be scraped off their boots, a child playing at being an adult.

It’s a little hypocritical, considering the age and experience of their Firelord; but then, Katara did not come here for nothing.

After the third time she’s interrupted, she gets to her feet at the low council table. All eyes turn to her; the only ones she bothers to meet are the startlingly gold ones at the head of the room, half hidden behind dancing flames. She doesn’t bother to ask his permission; nor does he give it. She summons her water, and holds it in spears of sharp ice over the entire council’s heads.

Her message is clear. _I will not be ignored._

After that, she’s never interrupted again.

________________________________

She spends a lot of time in the royal library.

She’s realized, after two weeks of living here, that she needs to know more about the Fire Nation’s history, and culture. She came to represent her people, yes; but there is so much more that she can do. The Fire Nation economy has been badly damaged by the aftereffects of the war. She’s only seen a few brief glimpses, but she wants to help these people.

Eight-year-old Katara would have been horrified at the thought of aiding the Fire Nation; but she is not that naïve, scared little girl anymore.

So, she goes to the library, and reads as much as she can. It isn’t easy; much of it is written in Old Fire Nation. The language is ornate, and she can’t read it; she can only read the ones written in the common tongue. But Zuko comes with her, most days; he reads to her aloud, and gives her simple scrolls to read so that she can better learn the language herself.

Hours pass as she learns; sometimes her eyes get so dry that the words start to blur. Zuko brings her intermittent cups of tea (he refuses to admit it, but his uncle has finally brought him around to the drink). There are times when she wants to give up; to simply do the job she was sent here for, and nothing more.

But she doesn’t; she won’t, because every word understood unlocks something in her chest, a sense of triumph that she hasn’t felt since she first forced Master Pakku into teaching her.

(Additionally, every time she gets something right, the smile on Zuko’s face is enough to make her want to learn even faster).

________________________________

The first time she enters the multi-purpose bending arena of the palace, two of the male guards in the corner hide their smiles in their helmets.

They do not know who she is. They have heard of her, obviously. The Avatar’s bending master; Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Child prodigy; the one who took down the mad princess Azula, and fought to save their Firelord’s life.

But they are new recruits; they have never seen her bend, never seen her fight. Both are at least twice her age, caught up in their own sense of self-superiority. The other guards stationed around, three women and three men, shake their heads subtly; but the two are lost in their own little world.

Katara doesn’t hesitate; she summons all the water that flows in the canals at the sides of the arena, and sends it crashing down upon them, freezing them on the spot.

A low chuckle sounds from the entrance; Zuko is standing there, watching her with a small smile playing at his lips. He orders the other guards to unfreeze the two men, before proceeding to fire them on the spot. He then turns back to her, and it’s then that she notices he’s dressed lightly, ready for a battle.

She smiles, and takes up position opposite to him.

________________________________

The day after her eighteenth birthday, she marches into Zuko’s office and slaps a proposal down on his desk.

It is the plans to improve the Fire Nation’s social worker system, starting by building a new homeless shelter here in Caldera, and expanding into the surrounding islands. Every time she goes to walk the streets of the city, she cannot help but notice all the poor people; the ones who cannot help themselves; and she knows, that the countryside is even worse.

As he reads everything over, the Firelord raises an eyebrow. She has spent hours calculating the costs; reading through any of the latest economic reports that she can get her hands on. She has found the best ways to do this with minimal expense, and she knows that Zuko notices.

He tells her that he expects her to bring it up at the next council meeting. She starts; after all, she is only an ambassador; it isn’t her place to try to affect the country’s policies in such a direct manner, which is why she came to him. But he shakes his head; says that it is her idea, and that he will support her.

She straightens her back then, and grins with all her teeth. She swears that she sees his pupils dilate a little, but the moment is lost as they begin to plan the best way for her to present her idea.

(The next month, when she comes up with an idea to improve the health care system, she doesn’t bother to ask his permission before she stands, and addresses his council. But he doesn’t mind; the entire time she is speaking, she can feel him struggling to hold back a smile, and her own lips threaten to quirk in response).

________________________________

When she goes back to the Southern Water Tribe for a visit, after a year of being in the Fire Nation, she feels somewhat disoriented.

From the first step that she takes off the boat; her family surrounds her. Her father wraps her in a hug, as does her brother. Suki, wrapped in a thick blue parka, kisses her gently on the cheek and smacks Sokka when he tries to sink the boat she came in. The day is spent in celebration; she eats as many stewed sea prunes as she can handle, stories are told around the hearth, and there is drunken partying deep into the night.

The next morning, she spends in council; being brought up to date on all that she has missed, and in turn discussing the political status of the other countries around the world. But all too soon the council is ended, and she finds herself lost.

She takes to wandering her home. Before she’d left; she’d helped the Northerners in the rebuilding of her people. Her tiny village is now an expansive city that rivals its sister tribe. She’d thrown her everything into it; fought for her rights to be recognized as an equal to the men, fought to open a bending school for everyone, fought to make all sorts of political maneuvers that have helped her people for the better.

But now, there is nothing for her to do here.

She’s traveled around the world; seen so much. Though it will always be home to her, the Southern Water Tribe is not what it was; it feels too small now, the comforting feeling of snow under her feet is not enough to distract her from the boredom she feels.

Life here is easier than it was when they were all half-starved in a tiny village composed of mostly tents; but in an odd contrast, the easiness leaves her feeling stifled.

When she goes back to the Fire Nation after a month in the Water Tribe, she’s surprised at how comforting it is to breathe humid air, and feel the inevitable heat that comes with living on a tropical island.

(Additionally, the sight of warm, golden eyes that light up when they see her is enough to bring laughter bubbling up her throat, and she hugs him tightly).

________________________________

They’re sitting by his mother’s turtle-duck pond when Zuko finally asks her why she chooses to stay in the Fire Nation.

He’s not looking at her, even as he breaks off a hunk of fresh bread and throws it into the water. She’s almost distracted from the question by the (adorable) sight of turtle-duck babies that swim out of the pond and waddle excitedly up to his feet, but she lets out a sigh and considers his words.

Above them, the full moon shines brightly, and she looks to Yue as she gathers her thoughts.

When she’d come to the Fire Nation, she’d expected opposition, and she’d gotten it. But she’d been determined; determined to represent her people and make a difference on the world. She’d been ready for a new challenge, having done as much as she’d deemed possible for her tribe, and she’s always had dreams bigger than what her home in the Southern Water Tribe could contain.

But here, in the Fire Nation, she’s done things that had only ever been distant imaginings. She’s influenced world politics; helped to change the face of a nation’s economy. She’s become a person that she’d never thought she could have been, but whom she’s grateful and proud to be all the same.

It hasn’t been easy; but then, Katara’s never looked for easy.

Additionally, here she’s found something with Zuko that she’s never had before. It’s like he’s lit a tiny flame in the center of her chest, one that doesn’t burn her but thrums with warmth, with life, with promise; even if neither of them have never voiced as such.

But thinking of him reminds her of his question; so, she drops her head and looks at him. He’s watching her steadily now, bright golden eyes fixed on her. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen a shade of gold quite like his, before; they draw her in and cradle her in their depths, and she feels safer than she’s ever properly felt.

The question still hangs, unanswered in the air; but looking at him, she thinks he knows. He’s been with her as she fought to understand the country she’s found herself in, fought to improve it; encouraged her on and stood by her as she forged a new path for herself.

And the longer she looks, the more she realizes that he’s not asking her about the Fire Nation, not really.

So, she scoots closer; the turtle-ducklings scatter back to their pond, cheeping indignantly, but neither of them can be bothered to notice. His hand, warm and calloused, comes up to cradle her cheek, and she presses her forehead against his.

The question is silently asked; a heartbeat later, it’s silently answered, and her lips are on his.

It’s far from a perfect first kiss; she’s not sure where to put her hands, and one of his teeth accidentally knocks against hers. But they figure it out and find their rhythm, eventually. His mouth is hot against hers, tongue gently swiping at her lower lip, and she pushes back against him until he’s lying on his back and she’s straddling him.

They only stop when they need to come up for air.

Around them, fireflies begin to twinkle under the light of the full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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